The Broken Swing
by Saucie
Summary: Some time after his world shatters, Remus Lupin thinks about paying a visit to his friends' graves, and instead finds himself at another place he remembers ...


THE BROKEN SWING.  
  
He ought to have reached the graveyard by now. He turned a full circle, hoping to spot some landmark through the swirling white mist, but saw nothing except the tops of the trees lining the avenue. Sighing, he jogged on, trusting the narrow street to open out onto the main road sooner or later.  
  
It didn't. It twisted and turned, until he had completely lost his sense of direction, and only the trees that still grew along the edges of the crumbling street assured him that he wasn't about to pitched over the nearest cliff. He knew for a fact that the cliff tops were barren. The road turned suddenly, and he realised where he was.  
  
The fog hadn't lifted. As thick as ever, it lay low over the field in front of him, obscuring his vision, but he didn't need to see the ground to know what it looked like. He had started for the graveyard, but this place brought back the same sort of memories. How typical for him to find himself here on a Halloween morning.  
  
It was the old park in front of his house, the park that had been closed almost fifteen years ago, and had grown wild and neglected. Why it had been closed was still a mystery, but the gates were boarded up, and the area had been cordoned off with thick coils of barbed wire. He had never been inside since.  
  
Carefully, he began to make his way inside, expecting to stumble onto the sharp wire any time, but finding the going surprisingly easy. The memories hit him forcefully - sounds of childish, innocent laughter, the bright sun glinting off the steel of the swings and slides . . .  
  
He stopped suddenly. He had reached the very middle of the desolate park. Out of the mist before him rose a metal pole, and as he stepped closer, he realised that it was actually the frame of a swing. The seat of the swing was cracked through the middle, and it hung in two parts, a piece of steel attached to each of the rusted chains.  
  
Cracked through the middle.  
  
Just like him.  
  
He took another step towards the swing, placing a hand on one of the poles. The metal was cold to the touch, and sounded hollow as he tapped it. He bent down before the swing and reached out and grasped a part in each of his hands. He looked at the broken, jagged edges, and tried to join them. It was no use. Savagely, he pushed them against each other, trying to force the two pieces together, but it was as useless as trying to fit together the wrong pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. And he knew what was wrong. There was a piece missing.  
  
He let go, sitting back on his heels and watching the chains swing lightly back and forth. A piece was missing. It was cracked through the middle, and there was a piece missing.  
  
And he saw what he was doing his best to shut out of his mind. He saw a red- haired girl, not more than eleven or twelve, sitting on the swing, laughing. The fog faded; he could see green grass, lit golden by the afternoon sun, and he himself was a phantom in that world. He didn't belong. It was a happy world, a carefree world . . . he definitely did not belong.  
  
A black-haired boy was pushing her - a black-haired boy with thick black glasses and a bewitching smile. He, too, was laughing - laughing for no reason at all, but just out of pure happiness. Another boy hung onto one of the poles, grinning broadly. He looked at this boy, smiling sadly . . . as a boy, his curse could be put aside. As a man, never.  
  
And there was a third boy, also with black hair. He sat beside the brown- haired boy, head bent over a piece of frayed rope, brow furrowed with concentration. And he could hear his memory-self ask clearly, "What're you doing, Sirius?"  
  
The third boy, looked up, still frowning. "I'm trying to knot this." He held up the thick rope, which gave the appearance of having been badly twisted.  
  
"It won't knot," said his twelve-year-old self. "It's called No-Knotting Rope for a reason."  
  
"I want to see if I can break the enchantment," answered the black-haired boy, smiling suddenly. "Then I can sue the company and get some money."  
  
"It isn't that simple," said the spectacled boy, giving the girl a mighty push.  
  
"It isn't?" The other dark-haired boy looked surprised. "I mean, they guarantee that it won't knot, so if it does, shouldn't that at least get me my money back?"  
  
He smiled at this innocence, even as his younger self said, "Well, you have to go into court to sue, you know. And you're too young to do it."  
  
"Too young to go into court?" The black-haired boy dropped the rope. "That can't be right. People go into court for trials at any age, my brother said."  
  
"For trials, yeah," said the girl at the swing, looking slightly giddy. "But that's different. You can't do a case when you're only twelve."  
  
The boy looked downcast. After a pause, he said, "But everyone does get a trial, right, whatever age they are?"  
  
"Oh yes," said the brown-haired boy, and he looked down at himself sadly as he continued, "They always do."  
  
"That's good. I mean, you can do something wrong at any age, but it can be a mistake, can't it?" He had gone back to trying to knot the rope.  
  
The black-haired boy with the glasses grinned. "Can't say I blame Sirius for being so worried, Remus," he said. "Like as not, he's the only one of us who's going to need a trial."  
  
The boy with the rope stuck out his tongue and tackled the spectacled boy, and the brown-haired boy also jumped into the fray, leaving the girl swinging. As the sound of laughter filled his mind, he could see the green and golden landscape fading, leaving him standing alone in the fog. His memories were always so real.  
  
And it was the truth of their laughing statements as children that stuck him as so ironic. Sirius had been the only one of them to need a trial - not that it would have made any difference. He looked back at the broken swing, and sighed. He had meant to go to the graveyard, as he always did on Halloweens, but he felt he had paid homage to them more deeply than he could have in the cold, impersonal cemetery.  
  
He turned to go, hoping that no policeman would see him make his way through the barbed wire. But before that, he reached out and touched the seat of the swing once more.  
  
Cracked through the middle.  
  
With a piece missing.  
  
And he knew that it was not one piece, but four. Lily, James, Peter, and Sirius. And they could never be returned to him. The swing would always be broken.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~  
  
A/N: Does any of this need explanation? I read through it after it was uploaded and realised that no italics showed up . . . which is why I had to re-upload it and change some lines so that italics wouldn't be needed. ^Why^ don't they show??? And thanks a lot for the reviews!!! (Wow, I've never seen a chapterless fic with thanks in the author notes before . . . I mean, it sounds like I'm thanking you for reviews that I don't already have . . . or will they disappear after I upload?) Sheesh, I'm ranting now . . .  
  
Disclaimer: I'm too young for a trial! So don't sue me!!! (Actually I'm not, but that's beside the point). Anyway, it's not mine, so - so boo ya! 


End file.
